


Must Be Magic

by Sighanide, Weaving_Tales



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, College Student Sam, Eventual Romance, Gabriel is Bad at Feelings, Lonely Sam, M/M, Pre-Supernatural (TV), Sam Misses Dean, Sam Winchester at Stanford, Sam-Centric, Slow Build Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Slow Burn, Trickster Gabriel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sighanide/pseuds/Sighanide, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weaving_Tales/pseuds/Weaving_Tales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester goes off to college to escape his life from hunting. He's got no idea what to expect and for the first time, he's truly alone. When a fellow student sits beside him and mixes two heavily caffeinated drinks to survive an early morning economics class, he seems like as good a guide as any to the college lifestyle- so why not befriend him?</p><p>Gabriel is just curious about the man destined to be his brother's vessel. When he decides to take a closer look, he's unsure of what to do with his findings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cascalence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cascalence/gifts).



 

 

**Chapter 1**

  

                  Sam Winchester didn't know what to expect from college in the slightest. It wasn't like he could just call up Dean for advice anymore. Besides, this is uncharted territory for the Winchester family. As far as he knows, no one in his family tree has ever gone past high school. And most of them haven't even accomplished that. 

                  His RA was nice enough. He helped Sam find his way around school and things like that. But he's a senior and they have little in common other than attending the same school. His roommate hadn't come around yet, either. There weren't any signs that he'd ever showed up, despite Tuesday being the second day of classes. Sam supposed that he could have free Mondays like he did, but it seemed strange that his dorm mate never even showed up. 

                      Either way, in his first class on Tuesday, Sam was friendless without any idea of how to adjust to his unfamiliar setting. The sun was barely over the horizon. His cheap watch reading 6:54. 

                      He didn't mind rising early. John had conditioned his kids to adjust to weird sleep patterns. Sam was certain that no amount of early rising could phase him anymore. Most of his classmates probably disagreed. Those that weren't visibly regretting their life choices were either typing away on laptops or chatting quietly in pairs. Some even had their heads dropped onto their desks, trying to catch a few more precious minutes of sleep. No one seemed happy to be there.

                      Sam sat in the midst of a group of unoccupied seats. All of his nearby classmates were either staring ahead with a blank look or napping on their desks. None looked open to conversation. Taking out the class's required materials didn't take long, so he quickly found himself in uncomfortable silence. With two minutes before the start of class, someone slid into the seat next to his.

                         The stranger was one of those who looked like he regretted his life's choices. His eyes fluttered with the telltale sign of drowsiness. His head involuntarily drifted forwards before he would snap upright. In one hand, he held a ridiculously over-sized cup of coffee considering his size. When the newcomer's eyes slid to Sam, they widened briefly. He seemed to brighten, looking pleasantly surprised. His mouth quirked into a smile.

                       Sam shot him a grateful smile that he hoped didn't look desperate in return. It was the closest he'd gotten to camaraderie in the past week. The stranger doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't fade, either. He turned to rifle through his bag, coming up with an aluminum can. Sam caught a glimpse at the words scrawled across the can- it was some sort of drink called Monster.

                       It sounded familiar. After rifling through his memories, Sam remembered why he recognized it. It was an energy drink that Dean had a couple times when he was still a kid- he'd thought coffee was gross, but he was too young to drink alcohol. In a compromise, Dean had sneaked a few cans into their shopping cart at a gas station once. He'd only drunkeen it twice before their dad confiscated it. From what Sam remembered, it'd made Dean bounce off the walls so much that John couldn't concentrate on anything other than keeping his sleep-deprived son out of trouble.

                        Sam glanced between the stranger's two drinks, wordlessly raising his brows. Although he noticed Sam's unspoken question, he still didn't verbally reply.

                        Instead, the man silently popped open the energy drink and dumped all of its contents into the canister of coffee. His eyes met Sam's once more and he finally spoke.  

"I'm going to die," he drily announces, bitterly smirking.

A wiry man walked in before Sam had a chance to respond. He quickly silenced the few murmurings of the class by introducing himself, giving a steely look to anyone who so much as breathed too loudly.  

                     Sam was distracted through the professor's entire introductory speech, eyes instead locked on the his companion. The man seemed dead set on drinking the entire concoction. Sam was certain that the caffeine content had to be toxic, especially considering that the man didn't top five nine. After a while, the stranger noticed the not-so-subtle stares thrown his way. He peered back at Sam until the taller man looked away, although he seemed pleased with the attention he'd garnered.

                      Sam's gaze darted elsewhere, finally settling on the professor. The professor rambled on about something dull relating to economics, a topic Sam couldn't care less about. Nonetheless, Sam reminded himself that he couldn't lose his concentration this early. Maybe mixing caffeinated drinks is just normal college behavior. How would he know? He'd get used to it soon enough.

                       The class ended two hours later. Half the class had edozed by then- Sam was close to joining their ranks at one point. At least a third of the students shambled out the door with blank looks like zombies. Sam fell among the few remaining students who'd fully embraced consciousness, ignoring a single slip-up. The stranger next to him seemed to have awakened, in no small part thanks to his now entirely empty cup. In fact, he was vibrating with energy. His fingers drummed impatiently against his desk, matching pace with his rapping feet. He caught Sam's amazed (and equally concerned) stare at his empty glass and just grinned. 

"What? Don't tell me you haven't gotten some sort of caffeine boost this morning."

"I haven't," Sam finally admitted, cramming his laptop into his bag.

                        There was a pause. Sam felt the full intensity of his stare, although he didn't look up from his things.

"What are you? Some sort of God?" the stranger incredulously replied, eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

"I don't know where things are yet. I didn't want to be late to class because I got lost," Sam defensively answered. 

                      The stranger gave him a once over, doubt still clouding his face. The hunter- no- ex-hunter, finished packing away his stuff. He ignored the look of disbelief still being directed at him. When Sam stood, his companion seemed to shrink even more (much to the man's visible dismay as his eyes his taller opponent).

"What's your name, anyways?" the shorter of the pair asked.

"Uh- it's Sam."

                       There was an instinctive falter in his voice. Sam supposed years of using fake names would do that to you, although that was a conversation topic he'd rather avoid. It didn't go unnoticed. The stranger's eyebrows ross with doubt, leaving Sam to wonder if he's getting the full force of some sort of interrogation. Thankfully, the amber-eyed man doesn't pursue the matter any further. His lips did quirk into a smile, interest sparking in his eyes.

"I'm Gabriel. Don't wear it out."

                    Sam half-smiled and threw his bag around his shoulder.

"Are you new, too?" 

"Yeah. This is a freshman class. Intro to Economics," Gabriel retorted. 

"Oh. Right, yeah," Sam mumbled, biting back a wince.

"You sure you don't need a coffee?" the shorter man bemusedly questioned. "I know a place nearby."

                     Sam admittedly needed a caffeine boost. He wasn't tired at the beginning of the class, but the dim room quickly grew stuffy. The class wasn't riveting, either. His recent diet hasn't exactly been healthy- he'd been living off soda and granola bars for far longer than reccomended. He was pretty close to having his energy crash entirely- and he could feel a headache on the horizon, too. But since he had an afternoon class in a couple hours, it was in his best interests to hold off his crash for a while. 

"Sure, that'd be great."

                      Besides, it's not like he had any plans (or friends, for that matter).

                       It was a short walk to the cafe, mostly filled with the customary boring pleasantries and questions. Sam stuck to his usual cover story, revealing as little as possible- he moved around a lot as a kid ans since he didn't want to go into the family business, he left for college. Gabriel was equally as vague about his past, too. They breeze past the topic quickly after the mutual discomfort became apparent.

                          Clearly they already had something in common. Sam silently wondered why Gabriel's had bad blood with his upbringing, but since they made an unspoken agreement not to talk about it, he was left to mull it over by himself. Besides, bonding over an unhappy childhood didn't seem like a start to a healthy friendship.

                       After around ten minutes, Gabriel stopped him in front of a brick building sandwiched between an art shop and a flower boutique. A hand-painted wooden sign above the door labeled the shop as The Cinnamon Cafe. Gabriel glided to the entrance. He dramatically threw the door open and marched inside. Sam followed after a short hesitation.

                      The name fit the cafe well. Cinnamon was the first thing Sam smelled when he walksd inside. It was mixed with the delightful scent of cooking pastries and the rich scent of brewing coffee. His mouth watered at the aroma- he couldn't help but to inhale it. Matters weren't helped when his eyes feasted upon the display exhibiting an array of freshly cooked desserts. Sam can't remember the last time he ate any sort of dessert that hadn't come out of a wrapper. Still, he hadn't worked out enough recently to justify a sugary treat. And his wallet was already screaming in protest before he entered. He'd have to hold off on splurging for now. 

                    Gabriel seemed quite cheery as he strode to the counter with a grin that already seemed familiar. Sam couldn't help but to feel cheerful too, eyeing the menu. He was debating how girly of a drink he could order without the usual raised brows when he overheared Gabriel's order. In addition to some sort of caramel latte, the man rattled off a list of several pastries to top it off.

                      Sam chose some kind of cappuccino with liberal amounts of cream and sugar that probably would've gotten him cashiered if he were still with his family. But it's about damn time he had something other than the instant stuff from gas stations, so he was going to savor it. Once their orders are prepared, Gabriel guided him to a small booth in the corner. The entire place was cozy and thankfully clean. The lighting wasn't blinding, the seats were comfortable, and the other patrons were college students. For the most part, the other customers were quietly typing away on laptops. It was comfortable, much more so than the bars Sam used to be dragged into. 

                      Gabriel proved to be a great conversational partner. Even for a Standord student, he was incredibly bright. He was cultured, charismatic, and well-read, which more than made up for his rather juvenile sense of humor. And he was a great story-teller, especially seeing as how trouble always seemed to find him. Sam frequently found himself laughing, especially when Gabriel started telling stories about his best pranks. Sam quickly found himself in the middle of an enthralling story without any recollection of how three hours have passed.

"Anyways, so I'm standing in nothing but my boxers and a ski mask on the top bleacher with a gallon of pudding and half a pie during the halftime show with my foot stuck in the drying cement while the school's mascot, this guy in an ancient bird costume, is chasing me with a pitchfork," Gabriel said, amusedly recalling the comeuppance of a bitchy teacher that went horribly wrong. 

"Then what?" Sam impatiently asked.

"Well, I yanked my feet out of my shoes and started running away, barefoot. And let me tell you, a high school football game is a disgusting place to go barefoot. Anyways, I hop onto the field from the first row of bleachers. The band's on the field. They get totally off sync, no surprise there. I'd be distracted if some kid came streaking across the field with an armed bird in pursuit, too. They get totally uncoordinated. Some of them start running into each other and they sound like a mess. Eventually, the coach sends a football player after me. This guy, who's like six five and isn't weighed down by a thirty pound suit, comes trucking at me to get me off the field. So, I'm weaving in and out of the tuba players and the damned bird guy tackles me into the ground."

                     Gabriel dramatically paused to spoon cake into his mouth, feeding off of Sam's frustration at the untimely break. When Sam's gaze started morphing into an impatient glare, only then did Gabriel continue.

"Well, the pie goes flying and hits some band kid in the face. Everything's totally chaotic by now. I figure I'm being recorded by about half the student body now. Even though it's my senior year, I don't want to live on in infamy- so I decide that I'd rather be a legend than a loser. I punch the mascot in the face. It doesn't do anything through the padding, so I scoop a handful of pudding and just chuck it at him. He's so surprised that I manage to get away. The football player is still coming at me, though. So I'm just blindly throwing pudding over my shoulder."

                       Gabriel jabbed at his bowl of pudding for extra emphasis, liberally motioning with his spoon while he spoke. He grinned, Sam somehow fully believes that he wasn't making any of it up.

"I guess he slipped or something, because I manage to get into the locker rooms. I run into the shower room, because that place is creepy enough that no one's going in there at night. I probably shouldn't have- all I had for company in the dark was whatever was crawling across my foot and what I hope to God was the squeaking of rats. They don't look in the showers, though, so it works out. Once I'm alone, I steal some kid's gym clothes from the lost and found bucket and try to slip back into the crowd."

                     Gabriel snorted, stopping to take a swig of coffee (mostly because he was trying to figure out how to finish the story- things had gone smoothly once he was able to vanish without any eyewitnesses). Sam impatiently waited. When it became clear that Gabriel seemed done, he questioned,

"And? Is that it?" 

"Pretty much. That's the story of how I got arrested and won Prom King because of it," Gabriel replies, smirking as he bites into a piece of cake. At Sam's raised brows, he elaborates. "They released me on lack of evidence. A few blurry videos of a guy in a ski mask wasn't enough evidence. There were rumors, though, and I guess they swung the vote in my favor."

                        Gabriel shamelessly grinned, innocently shrugging. After a moment of silence, Gabriel leaned forwards. 

"What about you?" 

"What do you mean?"

"Come on. What sorts of jokes have you played? Don't give me any of that innocent bullshit. You've got a mischievous side. I can tell." 

                    Gabriel smiled at him in a way that was probably supposed to be encouraging, but came off more fiendish than anything else. Sam was certain that any of his practical jokes would seem bland and basic in comparison to Gabriel's devilishly creative ones. (Seriously- who knew someone could use honey like that?). But he decided to humor Gabriel, because this sas the closest he'd come to making a friend so far. So Sam picked out one story that he was particularly proud of to recount that one.

"Alright, fine. My brother and I liked to get into these prank wars. Someone would do something small and things would just escalate from there. Anyways, I was pretty mad at him for messing with my hair when I was asleep one night. He came home from work later that day and went straight to asleep. So I dug around in our groceries and found a pack of that instant drink mix stuff and some food dye. I end up putting all the mix behind the shower head." 

                     Gabriel's eyes glinted with amusement while Sam paused to innocently sip his coffee. 

"So, I turn off his alarm and wake him up late. He's obviously in a rush. He's racing around, and ends up jumping into the shower to rinse off before school. About a minute later, there's shouting from inside the bathroom, though it sounds more like a freaking banshee meeting its end. I'm pretty sure he slipped and fell over, even though he never admitted to it. But anyways, he barrels out of there, most of his skin and hair dyed bright bubblegum pink, dripping red water, and hopelessly sticky. He nearly strangled me, but I was out of there fast enough to avoid him. He went to school like that- dad said it was his fault for being late."

                    Sam smiled fondly at the memory, although it was soured when he remembered that he and Dean wouldn't be having more prank wars anytime soon. He hid his frown by dipping from his coffee. After Gabriel stopped laughing, a comfortable silence fell between them. Sam glanced down at his watch once it beeped to mark the start of a new hour. 

"Ah, shit!" he hissed, abruptly jumping to his feet.

"Late?" Gabriel knowingly questioned. 

                      Sam nodded, rapidly gathering his things. He haphazardly slung his satchel's strap over his shoulder. He only paused for a brief moment to ask, 

"See you Thursday?"

"I'm not going anywhere," came the lazy reply.

                       Sam shot him an apologetic smile, then raced out the door to his next class.

 

                      Gabriel watched Sam retreat with a thoughtful look. He disinterestedly stirred his drink, musing over his growing interest in Sam. Perhaps he could extend his experiment awhile longer.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's life basically sucks.

**Chapter 2**  

 

                     Sam finally met his roommate. Well, sort of. On the same note, he'd also discovered just how much he could grow to hate someone in 48 hours.  

                      After Wednesday's afternoon biology class, Sam had returned to his room to discover the carnage that had been left in his roommate's wake. There was no trace of where the guy's gone, only the definitive fact that he'd been there.

                     Sam's few possessions had been rummaged through, leaving multiple items missing. And those were only the things he knew were gone, too. The last of his cash had mysteriously disappeared in addition to that. Just great. He was officially a broke-ass college student with a couple of dollars and a handful of change to his name.

                     At least his gun hadn't been disturbed. Sam would need to find a better hiding place than underneath his mattress if his cyclone of a roommate kept tearing through their room.

                  In addition to those damages, some sort of crunchy food had been ground into the carpet (and although the flooring was ugly to begin with, the bright red dust make it looked like a forensic scene straight off of CSI). Crumbs littered every available surface, unnervingly crackling underneath his feet. A sticky substance had been spilled on the desk dangerously close to his laptop. Half of their room was sopping wet. That included his bed, a detail discovered courtesy of the awful squelching noise it made when he fell onto it. A quick investigation uncovered that the window had been left open, and since it had stormed all afternoon...

                   Sam groaned, falling backwards into his cold bed. After a metal pep talk, he did his best to clean and salvage everything possible. The sun was low in the sky when he finally finished. After spending thirty semi-useful minutes on his biology assignment, his productivity had been entirely depleted.

                  He spent the next ten minutes debating whether or not to go to the Mess Hall or to order himself a pizza. It was late, plus he was feeling pretty lazy. 

                Sam was distracted from the pressing dilemma when the lock of the dorm room shook. The door rattled in its frame beneath the onslaught. Someone pounded insistently on it, throwing in the occasional kick out of frustration. He could barely make out unintelligible muttering on the other side. The hunter was just starting to wonder if he was being robbed when the door was flung open. Standing outside was not an armed robber, but his incredibly intoxicated man who had to be his roommate.

             The sandy haired man stumbled in and tossed his key onto his bed. Sam swallowed, then opened his mouth to greet him. The drunken man stopped him before he'd even started. He lifted a hand to push Sam away, stumbled towards the desk. After leaning against it, shrouded in his odorous cloud of tequila, he leaned over and promptly vomited everything he'd ever eaten into the waste bin.

              Sam groaned and forced himself to look away from the scene. His stomach turned. He barely held down the bile rising in his throat. After nearly a minute of retching and gagging, his roommate stood and steadied himself as well he could. The man's bloodshot eyes locked on him. Though he wasn't entirely recovered from the puking incident, Sam started to introduce himself anyways.

"Uh, hey. I'm..." 

                 The hunter realized that the man's gaze was focused on something behind him when he was ignored, causing him to come to a slow stop. Sam turned around to discover that an equally drunk girl had propped herself against the open doorway. She giggled at the scene, wiggling her fingers at him.

                  The brunet muttered a curse. Apparently, the movement of shaking his head was what earned him the unsteady focus of his roommate's scrutiny. 

"Hey, man. You mind giving us some space?" he snapped, as if noticing him for the first time.

                 Sam lifted his glare to the ceiling. It'd be easier to agree than to argue. He couldn't get kicked out of his room for beating the shit out of his dorm mate during the first week. Especially when he didn't even have a job or friends to crash with. So, though it pained him, he agreed. 

"Yeah, whatever."

                  Sam grabbed his satchel and pushed his way out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him hard enough to shake the frame. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought this far ahead. Great. Now he had had absolutely nowhere to go. What exactly was he supposed to do now?

                  His appetite had was crushed by the lingering scent of vomit, so the Mess Hall wasn't a good place to be. He didn't have any cash to rent out a place for the night. He didn't have any  good friends to crash with for the night.  He had few options and it took only a short time to sort out his best option.

                  Sam found himself in the library an hour later. It wasn't easy to navigate the immense campus in the inky night. He'd gotten lost more than once and possibly stumbled into several drug deals, though he came through in one piece. It met all the required criteria- warm, quiet, and open all night. It would serve him well, considering he was tripping over his feet by the time he found a nice corner for himself on the second floor. 

                  He'd placed a thick book in front of himself for appearances, though his energy was way too sapped to bother reading. His head rested on his lumpy satchel. It was hardly the strangest place he'd slept and it was hardly the least comfortable. It didn't take long to drift off entirely to the quiet rustle of turnings pages and the scratch of pencils on paper. 

                Sam fell in and out of sleep during the night. Though most of his brief awakenings were blurred by the morning, he did remember one stark moment of clarity where he jolted awake to see a demon looming over him. But when he awoke up for good to the unholy screeching of his watch's alarm, he'd convinced himself it had been nothing but a hallucinatory dream.

                 It made sense. Sam's dreams had always been pretty intense. He'd jolted awake from them in a cold sweat more than once. There was probably something messed up in his head. The stress of adjusting to college couldn't be helping things. He needed a decent night's sleep. He never should've waited so long to sign up. It was horrendously early and he was already on the track for tardiness. God. If only he'd been earlier to register, he could've avoided the whole hellish morning class.

                  It was already too late for his usual morning jog. Or even to drop by his dorm, considering that he'd probably get lost on the way. He didn't have access to a shower, anyways. The locker rooms were wherever the stadium was and Sam was in no mood to get lost so early in the day. They were probably closed, to begin with. 

                It took an immense amount of will to lift his head off the desk. The lights shined straight through his skull. Dust danced in the rays of sunlight permeating through the windows. It was too fucking early and the sun was already up. He groaned, stretched, and tried to adjust to the sudden change in lighting so he could see what exactly was around him.

                 Sam hadn't attracted any attention. In fact, his entire floor of the library was basically abandoned. Hell, a couple of other students had collapsed with sleep, too. Apparently the second floor was the place to go if you need somewhere to crash for the night.

                 The ex-hunter stood. His spine popped with the movement. Rolling his neck resulted in a series of cracks, each more satisfying than the last. He stretched out his stiff limbs before gathering his items and finding the bathroom.

                 As Sam cleaned up in the library's bathroom, he found himself missing the comforts of his own bathroom- small as it was. Splashing his face with icy water didn't quite have the same effect as a morning rinse in the shower. He gargled with mouthwash, ran his fingers through his hair, and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes with a moderate degree of success. Coarse stubble ground against the rough material of the school's paper towels when he dried his face. The wrinkles from his sleeve had thoughtfully imprinted themselves into his cheek. He looked like some hungover frat boy after a day of drunken misadventures

                     Sam groaned.

                     He'd just look a little disheveled today. The brunet doubted that anyone else would look much different, given the hour. 

                     He spent the walk to class sucking on a tic-tac to ward off morning dragon breath and cursing his luck. He'd have to pack a bag of stuff if getting thrown out of his room turned into a regular thing. Or maybe he could just get rid of the guy entirely. Sam could try to report him to their RA or something.

                     He made it to class with ten minutes to spare- minutes he spent his head dropped onto his desk, plotting revenge 

                     And entirely unaware of the archangel approaching him. A glimpse at the dark rings under Sam's eyes made him raise a brow. Drinking in his generally disheveled appearance, Gabriel subtly snapped his fingers. Another coffee materialized in his free hand with abundant sugar and cream already added.

"Here," he greeted the hunter. 

                       Sam looked up only then. When his eyes locked on the cup extended towards him, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. His hand snaked out like a bullet, snatching it away like Gabriel might rescind his offer at any moment. He drained at last half of the cup, seemingly oblivious that it was steaming hot.

"God, thank you," Sam groaned when he stopped to take a breather.

"Don't mention it. Had a feeling you might need it this morning."

"You were right."

"Yeah, no shit. You look like shit heated over. Twice."

                   Sam glared at him from over the lid of the coffee cup. 

"Long night?" Gabriel's amused voice inquired. 

"Not in the way you're thinking."

"Oh, well now you've got to elaborate."

"I got kicked out of my room by my wasted roommate so he could hook up with some equally sauced chick."

                      Sam eventually lifted his head to glare at a laughing Gabriel.   

"What? It's funny!"

                      Sam groaned an inaudible insult and let his head fall back into his desk.

"So, where'd you go?"

"Library."

"You slept in the  _library_?" 

"Yeah. Nowhere else to crash."

"God, you're an even bigger nerd than I thought."

"Jerk."

                     Sam was a bit disappointed when the answer came in the form of a pleased laugh and not his brother's voice insulting him in return.

 "So, what's the deal with your roommate?"

"Oh, mine bailed before he ever got here," Gabriel easily lied. Hell if he'd actually stay in one of those cramped, confining rooms with some sweaty stranger. 

"Probably the smartest thing he's ever done," Sam snorted.

                     That offended Gabriel for no apparent reason, which it shouldn't have because he didn't want a roommate or even particularly care about Sam. He was just there out of shameless curiously.

"What? You think I wouldn't be a fun guy to live with?" Gabriel asked, pulling a face.

"I imagine it'd be eventful. Make for lots of good stories. I'd just be constantly living in fear of having a bucket of glue dumped on my head or something."

"Glue? C'mon! That's amateur. Don't underestimate me, Sam. I'm an expert. Trust me, I'd give you worse things to fear than buckets of glue."

                        Seeing Gabriel's snakelike grin, Sam didn't doubt that.

"So, this roommate of yours. He's an asshole?"

"Trashed our room yesterday and didn't even bother to stick around. Met him last night for the first time."

                      Gabriel made a thoughtful noise, a devilishly evil look conquering his face.

                      Their conversation was cut short as the professor entered, before Sam could ask him what exactly that was about. The shorter man glanced at him with glinting eyes for a brief second, then lifted his eyebrows once before delving into whatever his laptop contained.

                      Gabriel had no time to learn about economics. It was the least sexy subject imaginable and ranked somewhere near the top with the bore factor. A snap of fingers whipped up a clone to take his place. It took him only even less to tweak the clone into looking painfully bored and then he was off. There was work to do.

 

* * *

 

                          Sam shambled out of the classroom a couple hours later. Only thanks to the liberal espresso dumped into his coffee had he managed to stay conscious. Though by no definition did that mean he was entirely awake. The brunet was stuck between sleep and a caffeine induced energy rush, a state where he was ready to sleep for a week or run an entire marathon in record time.

                   Gabriel joined him in walking (aimlessly) around campus, thoughtfully munching on a candy bar. He seemed much less affected. 

"If I cared any less about that shit, I'd have an aneurysm," Gabriel eventually snarked, waving his candy bar around for emphasis.

"Yeah, it's boring. It's... informative, though." 

"God, don't tell me you actually listened to that snooze fest."

"I'm here on scholarship money. I can't fail a mandatory class."

                       Gabriel raised his brows. Obviously the kid was smarter than he looked. Smarter than he'd originally thought, at least. Huh. He really had gotten the better set of genes.

"You got a full ride?"

"Not exactly. My tuition's covered, plus room and board. I've got to take care of everything else."

                    And everything else, according to Sam's calculations, was going to amount to a shit ton of cash. He had no transportation, no insurance, no emergency cash, and half a handful of bills to his name. He didn't even have a fucking bank account. So Sam was absolutely broke. 

                    He couldn't run the risk of credit card fraud now that he was locked down at Stanford. Being a normal law-abiding citizen was much harder than it seemed. And he'd always considered himself to be the law-abiding one of his family. Imagining Dean or John trying to cope with the situation almost made him smile. 

                     He needed a job. Maybe he could hustle some pools games until he found one.

"You?" Sam asked, realizing he'd been silent too long.

"I'm not exactly the studious type. I'm here courtesy of seduction and bribery," Gabriel remarked, glancing sideways at him with a Cheshire grin. 

                     Sam was fairly sure he was joking.

"Some people just have low standards," Sam replied.

                     Which he probably shouldn't have said because Gabriel was still basically a stranger. But Sam was tired and hungry and pissy by that point. Even though Gabriel was the closest thing Sam had to a friend (and that was pretty sad since he'd been there over a week), it was still probably inappropriate.

                      Gabriel didn't seem to be offended at all, though. Instead he just tilted his head back and laughed. 

"We can't all have your freakish proportions, Sasquatch," he replied, pointedly glancing at him with suggestively raised brows.

"Steroids help if you're on the opposite side of the spectrum," Sam wryly replied.  

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?" Gabriel snorted.

"Yeah. I'm being kind of an asshole. Sorry about that," Sam apologized, rubbing his face. "Waking up on a wooden desk isn't the best way to start a day."

"Right. Because all two hundred pounds of you couldn't hold your ground in your own room, huh?" Gabriel retorted, pulling a lollipop from nowhere and violently waving it at him with what Sam considered to be far too much amusement. 

"Could all of your one hundred pounds stop the uncontrollable hormones of an asshole frat boy?" he retorted, trying to hide the smile that threatened his cranky disposition.

"You'd be surprised at what I can do, kiddo."

                    Sam eyed him and decided that he was probably right. There was something about Gabriel that fascinated him. It had grabbed his attention and held it since the moment Sam had first seen him. Sam couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was. Maybe it was the smirk that never quite faded or his immense confidence or his natural charisma. Whatever it was, there was a pull towards him and Sam couldn't help but to gravitate towards it.

"So, what are you going to do about your bunk mate?" the shorter man finally asked. 

"I'd get an apartment if I wasn't completely broke. Maybe I'll save up enough to move out. But for right now, I'm broke. So I'm living off ramen and easy mac for the next four years," Sam muttered.

"I'll treat you, then. Money isn't an issue for me," Gabriel replied, like it hadn't been apparent already.

                      Sam absentmindedly glanced to the chipped laptop inside his battered satchel. It happened to be the most valuable thing he owned. He'd bought it for a hundred dollars at a thrift store. Even then, it'd probably still been overpriced. It crashed every day, randomly rebooted itself, and was generally a piece of trash. It even came with all the creepy pictures from the previous owner. 

                      Unless his gun counted as one of his belongings- which didn't technically exist because, legally, he owned no weapons- his most valuable thing was the laptop. 

                      Gabriel, on the other hand, owned the newest model of whatever PC he'd distracted himself with during class. And since he'd rotated between buying candy in bulk and switching to check his memberships to websites that Dean probably frequented, Sam had already reached that conclusion.

                       It'd be nice to have more than six crumpled dollar bills and a handful of change rattling in his pocket so that he could upgrade his possessions.

                        He just needed a freaking job first. Maybe Gabriel would know something about finding someplace to work around campus.

"Where do you work?"

                         Gabriel glanced at him, then averted his gaze. A strange twitch of lips, something not quite a smile, graced his face as he formed an answer. 

"I'm in human resources," he replied, an edge to his voice and a smirk on his lips.

"How's that?"

"Not the most glamorous thing to do, but someone's got to do it. And I get a good kick of it every once in awhile."

"Yeah, if anyone could, seems like you'd be the one to get a laugh out of it." 

"Obviously." 

"So, you know this place a lot better than me. Where could I get a job?"

                    Gabriel hummed, then came to a stop in front of the cafe they'd visited earlier that week. He stopped dead still without warning get. The sharpest grin Sam had ever seen slowly took over his face.

"I've got something in mind."

"Really? What?" Sam warily questioned. 

"It's more of a one-time thing. You get fast money, a nice paycheck right after."

                    It bothered Sam that he wasn't straight out telling him what exactly the gig was. 

"What do I have to do?"

"You don't have to do anything. I'll sign you up myself, give you a glowing recommendation."

"I don't know. I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into," the taller man suspiciously responded.

"Oh, come on. Live a little, Sasquatch! Where's the fun in it if you don't go in blind? It'll make for a great story."

"How much am I going to get paid?"

"Forty an hour."

                  That convinced him well enough, even though he was certain that it was going to bite him in the ass later

"Alright. I'll do it," Sam declared after a pause.

"Great," Gabriel grinned.

"Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just show up when I tell you to. You don't have to bring anything but that sweet ass."

             Gabriel suggestively raised his brows and winked at him, then flung open the door to the cafe like he hadn't potentially just hit on him. Sam blinked, trying to process whatever the hell had just happened. Gabriel's strategy didn't allow for that, because he distracted Sam promptly after with an innocent smile and doe eyes.

"You got time for another coffee?"

 

* * *

  

               Sam was pretty sure that Gabriel actually hated him. He was going to die and then come back as a ghost to kill literally everybody in the damn college.

                The only thing that kept him from dying of embarrassment right then was the hefty sum of cash fattening his pocket- inside the pocket his abandoned jeans on the other side of the room, that was. This was going to be traumatizing.

"Shitshitshitshit," Sam repeatedly mumbled, nervously fidgeting with the fringes of his robe.

                  He could hear the art teacher saying something about portraits, but there was so much blood flowing to his face and rushing through his ears that it that it drowned out most noise. He was going to die. What the hell would they even put on his headstone if he died like this?

                   And then the teacher signaled him to drop his robe. He did, with no small amount of embarrassment. He felt each of the forty pairs of eyes analyzing his flaws and form, his face reaching a previously undiscovered shade of red.

                   Then from the back of the classroom a single voice shouted out,

"Holy fuck!" 

                  And there was the sound of an easel and a stool crashing to the ground, taking the artist down with it. (That artist was definitely not an incognito archangel who totally had a vested interest in art).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't abandoned. I swear. I've got everything mapped out for this one. Though it's been awhile since I've updated, GNS is winding down to a close, which means that I'll have lots more time to work on this one. Thank you for sticking with me! Please leave your thoughts and suggestions in the comments ^~^
> 
> Cheers,  
> Sighanide xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 

                Sam woke up to the sound of a stack of books slamming against the desk, which sounded eerily like gunfire when you were unceremoniously jolted awake. His first reaction was to come up swinging, missing his unseen target. It resulted in him losing his balance  knocking over his chair and falling into a boneless heap.

“You weren’t joking about the whole bookworm thing, huh?” Gabriel asked, extending a very displeased Sam his hand.

                Sam ignored him, a deep scowl set in his features as he gathered himself and stood.

“Asshole,” he groused.

                He no longer felt so bad about being surly unless he’d been awake for at least an hour. Steadily, he’d been deprived of sleep and become increasingly reliant on caffeine to get him through the day.

                Besides, in the month they’d been at school, Gabriel had become unaffected to such comments and frequently dished them out himself. Other than sharing two classes with Gabriel- one of which was regrettably chemistry, which provided him with the chance to freely cycle between cracking horrible pick-up lines and coming dangerously close to burning his face off, he was the best friend Sam'd had in years. It certainly ranked among his longest lasting.

“What time is it?” Sam grumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair.

                Dean would probably think he needed a haircut. It had gotten fairly scraggly already, but without anyone to chase him down with a pair of scissors, it might as well have been a lost cause. 

“Half past eleven. How long you been asleep, kiddo?”

“I dunno. Got kicked out middle of the night. Maybe since four.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know people have low standards in college, but now it’s just getting unbelievable. Even my brother never got laid that much.”

“I have a hard time believing that. Especially if he’s even half as attractive as you are,” Gabriel retorted, shooting him a wink.

                It was too early in the morning for Sam to factor flirting into his day yet. His mind currently had two settings: bitchy and hungry. Both them were activated.

“How drunk does someone need to get for that to seem like a good decision?”

                Obviously pretty drunk if none had noticed the less than inconspicuous rash his roommate had developed, courtesy of an unhappy archangel. Gabriel needed to step up his game- and clearly plenty of the students on campus needed to take another health class. Maybe he should just resolve the issue altogether. 

                Sam was struggling enough as it was trying to adjust to being on his own. Anyone could see it in the way his face always lit with hope when his phone chimed or whenever he heard the sound of an old car revving up. And actually caring about your classes and future had to be stressful enough.

                Yeah, Gabriel was going to solve it with his personally patented pagan plan. Sam's life was shitty enough as it was.

“Of course they’d pair with up with the biggest future douche of America,” the taller of the two continued to grumble, gathering his stuff.

“It could be worse.”

“I fell asleep in two classes yesterday and when I opened my laptop in Psych, my screen was frozen on porn. Worst part was that the speakers weren’t,” Sam bitterly remarked. “And now I can’t get the goddamned thing to work. There’s something like a hundred viruses downloaded onto it.”

                Gabriel raised his brows. And the kid had also broken Sam's laptop with porn. He might've found that kind of funny at a different time.

“I don’t know. I’m not picky. I just want a roommate that’s half-decent. Sober. Courteous. I could deal with anyone half as obnoxious as him.”

“Someone will take care of him.”

“My guardian angel's permanently on holiday. I've probably maxed out your tolerance for complaining. Got time for a coffee or something?”

“Always. And maybe we can get you a comb for that hair too, Rapunzel.”

                Sam glowered at him.

“Looks like a bird just nested in yours.”

                The incredulous look of insult on Gabriel’s face was enough to make Sam crack the first smile of the weekend.

                It was followed by many more. Gabriel never ceased to be interesting, rarely letting a moment of silence pass between them. He filled the silences with mindless chatter, sometimes commenting on the people they passed in a less than politically correct way that Sam couldn’t help but to laugh at.

                Before he’d even realized it, they were sipping coffee, situated side-by-side in barstools in a bookstore. It felt mystically empty with them as the only occupants- the barista had retreated into the back.

“So, Sunday. Any other plans?”

“Nothing interesting, really. Figuring out whether or not my group partner actually exists, since I’ve never even seen him show up to class, I guess. Homework. Oh, and I have a job interview tonight.”

“Where?”

“Some sports bar. It’d just be part-time. Weeknights, mostly.”

“You’ll get it,” Gabriel confidently assured him before his face fell with mock disappointment. “So guess that’ll mark the end of your modeling career?”

“God, I hope so. I’m never doing that again. I don’t need money that badly.”

                Gabriel rolled his eyes. Although if he’d ever legitimately enrolled in any of these classes to begin with, that news would be something his grades would’ve thanked him for. After all, he'd been too distracted to actually paint anything. Really, he’d only stuck around so that he could see the look on the professor’s face when he handed in a blank canvas with a bright grin and then sauntered out of class.

“And what about you?” Sam questioned to break the silence.

“Working, mostly. A true hero’s never done, huh?”

“Does getting a job mean I have to start paying taxes?” Sam asked, a frown suddenly creasing his brow as the thought hit him.

                Clearly he was going to make a fantastic lawyer. 

“Taxes are beneath me.”

“I know, but-,"

“Quit trying to be more responsible than I am," the archangel flippantly retorted. 

                Sam groaned. He was not ready to tackle this whole adulting thing, especially not alone. He was probably going to live at the Financial Aid office or whatever government site was supposed to explain all this bullshit. That was granted that he didn't get arrested for forgetting to pay bills. Wait. Did he have to pay bills? Shit, he was going to spend the rest of his free time praying that he wasn’t inadvertently screwing something important up, wasn’t he? 

“Didn’t take you for a churchgoer.”

                Oh. He hadn’t realized he’d been said that out loud. Sam looked up with something that fell short of a smile, but yet his eyes still held hope despite all they’d been witness to.

“I think someone’s listening,” he carefully replied. “What about you?”

                His smile was anything but happy, his eyes shadowed as he glanced down into the steam rising from his mug. 

“Not a fan of that particular scene.”

                Gabriel hid his scowl in his mug.

                Faith wouldn’t do anything for Sam but disappoint. Hope hadn’t been what kept him alive so long. It was almost ironic that he’d pray to a God that in the end, no matter how indirectly, would be the cause of his demise. There was something cruelly poetic to it, a thought that he was forced to keep to himself.

                Gabriel needed a distraction. Fortunately, as it turned out, he already had his favorite distraction at his own disposal- flirtation and food.

                He moved to his plate, vehemently slicing off a chunk of a cinnamon roll and jamming it into his mouth. His eyes rolled back into his head as he chewed. He let out an overdramatic moan of delight, licking the flaky crust and white frosting from his lips. Certainly, no one needed to vocalize their enjoyment that much.

“So good,” he breathily declared, taking another bite and sucking every crumb off his fork for far longer than necessary. 

                Obviously both of them fulfilled the desired effect. 

                Sam only realized he was staring when Gabriel’s inquiring eyes flickered to his.

“There something on my face?” he asked, quirking a brow.

“Uh,” Sam answered, extending the syllable for far longer than necessary before ducking his head away and chugging down the painfully hot java in his hands. He winced, replying in a tight voice. “No. You’re good.”

                Gabriel eyed him a moment longer with a ghost of a smirk settling on his lips before he launched into a story about... Whatever it was didn't really matter, seeing as Sam zoned out the moment he started talking. He could’ve been talking about tax rates for all Sam knew and cared.

                It took the hunter two more minutes to deduce that Gabriel was seductively eating his cinnamon roll on purpose and by then, the archangel had been long aware of his attentions.

                Well, there was a sentence he could’ve gone without thinking.

                It took him something like three more minutes to realize Gabriel had stopped talking and just started reciting the same word in different languages.

“What?” he asked, face scrunching with confusion as Gabriel rattled off a Latin word that sounded eerily similar to the word for dick.

“Oh, nothing. Anyways, where was I?”

                Sam blinked. After a prolonged pause, he lamely replied with-

“I forgot.”

“Oh. Then it probably wasn’t all that great of a story,” Gabriel shrugged, stretching as he stood. “Now, let’s browse through some fine literature. You look like you're about to fall asleep if you stay still any longer. Y'know, you can tell a lot about someone based on their tastes."

                Sam’s tastes included anything that he could download from a PDF file online. Last time he’d even held a legitimate book, assuming that lore written in dead languages and torn textbooks didn’t count, was probably sometime around the end of senior year in high school.

                Before he’d even thought to mention that, his friend had already ducked somewhere out of sight. So Sam freely wandered and leafed through books, reading through the notes penned in the margins ranging from fascinatingly insightful to plain raunchy.

“Hey, Chewbacca. Come look at this,” came the amused voice from several shelves over after some time had passed.

                Gabriel triumphantly held up a book when Sam wandered into view. Its cover depicted the impressive set of abs of a man colored in a faded grey and not much else. Everything above his shoulders and waist had been cut out of view. It was titled something that Sam would refuse to say out loud. 

“Looks kinda like you, don’t you think?” he asked, looking between the two.

“Uh…” From what Sam could see, they did look strikingly similar. Of course, he didn’t feel like it’d be wise to point that out. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m an artist. I studied you- in the name of art, I mean. And I think he’s your spitting image.” Gabriel melodramatically paused. “Wait. You don’t happen to model in your spare time, do you?”

“Could you, uh, not talk so loudly?” Sam mumbled.

                As if on cue, a group of school aged children walked in nice clothing. They were guided by a frazzled looking woman, presumably their Sunday School teacher, that took one sweeping look of disapproval at them and herded her group in the other direction. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Someone needs a Snickers.”

“We look like creeps, Gabe. Like we're grown men reading porn on a Sunday morning."

“We’re just having a discussion about fine literature, Sam.”

“In the Erotica section?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he glanced up the sign dangling above them.

“Absolutely. Here. Hold this,” Gabriel said, shoving the book into his hands.

                Their teacher glowered at them as she passed their row. Sam half-assed a wave with averted eyes, his cheeks tinged with crimson.

                Looking pained, the woman slowly walked down their aisle, turning her back to them the first moment possible to hunt through the shelf of books behind them.

“Gabriel, religion’s right behind us,” he hissed upon feeling the judgmental eyes burning through him from between shelved books.

                Gabriel looked at him and just grinned as if that was the punchline to a joke.

 

* * *

 

                It was half past nine on Wednesday when Sam crawled into his bed to scrape together a few hours of sleep before he was inevitably woken up by the insatiable sex drive of a playboy. He’d been resting for several minutes when he realized that something had struck the wrong chord when he’d walked in.

                Sam reluctantly sat up and glanced around. Other than his few items scattered about- albeit not where he’d left them last- everything else had been cleared out. The bedding had been stripped from the neighboring bed, the socks cleared off the still-sticky floor. The only memorabilia left behind was a disgustingly overflowing trash can and the remnants of smell from excessive Axe body spray and the strong buildup of musk that came from several consecutive days without showering.

                He got out of bed, sifting through all unseen corners.

                Finally, he could at last get some sleep. He collapsed heavily onto his bed, taking solace in the few brief moments of pure peace he was able to scrape together.

                Then there was a short knock on the door. It was flung open without invitation. In marched Gabriel, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He tossed his belongings onto the bed, swinging himself onto it with some effort- they were pretty far off the ground.

“What are you doing here? It’s late,” Sam asked when at last pushed himself up once more.

“You think this is late? Who are you?” Gabriel disgustedly asked. He shook his head. “We can address that later. Anyways, it’s a long story centered around my charming and devious feats. Started with me flirting with this uptight lady down at registration. So, she told me that I needed to-,”

“What’s the short version?” Sam interrupted, feeling fairly certain that Gabriel could monologue long after his lungs ran out of air.

“Short version is that I’m your new roommate, Samshine.”

                Sam was almost afraid Gabriel’s grin was going to cut him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter three, delivered not-so-promptly. Anyways, I've got big plans for this one. Hopefully I'll be able to update more regularly, but for now, I'm juggling this and Smoke Rising, alongside the Big Bang I'm working on. So, yeah. A bit busy at the moment.
> 
> Anyways, please leave your thoughts in the comments! This is unbetead as you can probably tell, so point out any errors that you find so that I can correct them. Thanks so much!
> 
> Cheers,  
> Sighanide xx

**Author's Note:**

> I found this OTP imagine in the depths of Tumblr and thought to myself- "Woah, this would make a great Sabriel one shot!"
> 
> But then, I was like- "What if Gabriel decides to meet Sam when said hunter is just starting out in college?"
> 
> And things spiraled out of control from there. 
> 
> Anyways, this obviously takes place when Sam starts at Stanford. 
> 
> Please comment your criticism, suggestions, and thoughts! They feed me. Since this is unbetaed, please comment any errors you see! I'm looking for a beta right now, so comment as well if you're interested.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Sighanide xx


End file.
